Perfect Strangers
by Call it Maglc
Summary: Erik hires someone to make him feel less lonely for one night. Meg has been unhappily giving her body for nine years to make ends meet. One can only imagine what happens when Meg realizes who her next client is... Erik/Meg Written in III Acts.
1. Act I: Erik

_**One QUICK note: This story is rated T because of strong sexual references. I can assure you there is NOTHING on here that deserves an M rating. JUST to clarify things! ^_^ Thanks!**_

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><p><em><strong>Perfect Strangers<strong>_

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><p><em><strong>Act I: Erik<strong>_

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><p>Composing was regarded as an art, but Erik felt that it was rather a sport. In sports, there's blood, tears, sweat, swearing, and frustration. He felt composing was much the same. In both, there was fierce competing, much effort, and more often than not, the undying will to be the best at what one did. The only difference between the two was the outcome. Composing led to either a masterpiece or a disaster, or at least music. Sports led to broken bones and other such tragedies. It was at this moment that Erik thought maybe, just maybe, this piece could lead to broken bones as well as music. He squinted his eyes, staring at the notes scribbled across the page, and left edits, such as extra notes or a quickly scribbled fermata. Once again playing the notes in his head, Erik clenched his teeth. <em>Everything's wrong!<em> he thought and let out a roar of anger. He snatched up the piece and crumpled it violently, tossing it as hard as he could at the wall.

The paper hit the wall with a quick _thunk_, and fell to the ground amongst a pile of other disregarded music sheets. Erik's face was red with anger. It was the seventh time that week he'd lost his temper over a piece he knew would either never work or he'd not the patience to work with. He'd been especially annoyed with everything this week, and whether the music was a cause or a side affect of it was to be determined later. His nerves were on the edge and any bother he had became ten times worse than normal. If his pencil broke, he'd swear profusely, cursing the pencil to the worst hell imaginable. If he was out of his dark room to eat or ask Madame Giry about something, Meg's very voice would set him on edge and he had to growl at her to keep away. The girl was beyond persistent, however, and found a new way to annoy him each day.

Erik sighed, supposing he was getting awfully worked up over another piece of trash that might've been music. It wasn't the music that was creating this mood, however, and he knew it was the dreams he'd been getting so often lately. He certainly didn't believe that his dreams were trying to convey a life-changing message, for he knew exactly what they meant. He was dreaming of Her. Chrisine Daae, the first and only woman he'd ever loved in his entire life. He'd sighed one more time, recounting each dream. They weren't the same thing each time, for that would've been a marvel in itself. No, each one had it's own story, and each opened his wounded heart a bit more. One night, it would be Christine singing, and he'd be watching from his box. The next night, it would be during one of their music lessons, with him playing his violin behind the mirror, teaching her to sing, and she was unafraid of him. The most painless of dreams came from ones where she would be horrified by him and leave him alone to die. At least it was a reminder that it was impossible for her to love him, and that she was gone from his life. Erik thought maybe nine or so years would've healed him from her. But no, it was as if the Grand Opera Garnier, _his_ opera, was burned only yesterday. The most awful of dreams were the ones where she would react to him the way he'd always dreamed she might. In one dream, Raoul was but a meaningless name, nothing more, and Christine had kissed him with so much passion, that he'd thought maybe it wasn't a dream, but that he was waking up into reality for the first time in years. When he'd woken, he didn't eat once all day, and Meg had come into his room to bother him with food. He'd sent her off with a glare, and she'd gone, embarrassed. But the worst and most terrifying dream had come just last night, and he was convinced he'd never sleep again. It replayed that night, the night where he had held Christine in his arms and...

Erik swore under his breath again and turned his attention to taking out a bottle of ink and a quill instead of a pencil. He would not allow himself to revisit that dream, if only for a moment. Such pleasure would only hurt him deeper. The dream had not only made the wound deeper, it seemed to cut a hole through him. The memory of that night was the best and most terrible in his life. The feeling of her in his arms, the kisses he'd showered her with, and the perfect feeling of her against him made him want to...

At that untimely moment, light flooded the room and Erik squinted at the light, turning to see Giry looking disapprovingly towards him. "If you must scream your profanities, will you at least cover you mouth with your hands? Meg and I could hear you loud and clear from the other side of the house."

Erik scowled. "I'm in no mood for a lecture, Giry."

Giry was stubborn like her daughter, however, and changed the subject. "Meg would also like to know if tonight you will be attending her show. She's still waiting for you to at least see her preform once."

"I'm much too busy," Erik mumbled, turning back around to his paper, making it look like he was deep in his writing when in fact, the paper was blank. He began leisurely drawing circles with the quill, pretending to write music. "Another day."

"How many more days after that?" Giry grumbled. "It's a terrible thing, that you own Phantasma and you do not even bother to see the shows."

"I said I'm busy, leave me to be," Erik growled again at his only friend. It still surprised him how kind she was to him after everything that had happened in the course of their lives.

"Fine," she snapped. "But like I said, keep your fowl language to yourself. It's unwanted in a peaceful place such as upstairs. You could try out the sunlight for a moment, it really wouldn't kill you."

"I won't risk the chance that it might," Erik might've cracked a small smile if he wasn't so cranky. He kept drawing circles, even though his quill had ran dry a moment before. "But if you would fetch me the newspaper, I'd be ever so obliged. Good day, Giry."

He could almost feel Giry furrow her eyebrows with displeasure before she closed the door behind him with what he might call a gentle slam. As soon as he was in the barely-lit room, only brightened by a lone candle burning on his desk, he sighed and thought about why he had Giry fetch the paper.

After these dreams, Erik had decided that he was done being lonely. It had been over nine years since he had last experienced the joys of the flesh, let alone a kiss. And he didn't like it one damned bit. If he couldn't have Christine, then he'd hire a new Christine, just for this one night. It didn't mean anything, that his love for her was flickering to a close. This was merely for his own selfish pleasure.

The door opened once more, but it wasn't who he'd expected walk through the door. It was Meg, holding the newspaper in her hands and a bright smile on her face. "Good morning, Erik," she chirped, handing him the papers. He took them, trying not to look at her. If he was perfectly honest, this was another reason he would invite a harlot in tonight. It was Meg. Lately, her attention seemed focused on Erik. She paid him more glances and smiles than was natural to give to a creature such as him. She did her best to please him, and would blush far more than a girl of her age, twenty-eight years old years, should. Erik feared for the worst. He wouldn't have that Meg liked him at all. She could do so much better with her beauty and talent, and he had no room in his heart for her.

But, said once more, Meg was a _very _persistent girl, and it seemed that she was squeezing her way into his heart anyway. Memories of Christine were slipping away, and even now she was becoming a distant memory. Thoughts of Meg were pushing the thoughts of his angel away. One of her most hypnotic features were her eyes. She had a most beautiful, unique set of emerald green eyes that he felt were of the handsomest he'd ever seen. Christine's eyes were as beautiful and delicate as her, but her chocolate brown, doe eyes didn't uphold the intelligence and humour that Meg's did. It wasn't necessarily the colour her eyes were, but how they seemed to speak. They often looked humoured, like she knew a hilarious secret, and was about to let you know that she had no intention of telling you. He'd only once seen her distraught and angry, and her eyes looked as though they were blazing. Erik had been scared and intrigued at the same time. He could stare into them all day if he wasn't careful enough. How could he betray Christine like that? He supposed hiring the harlot wouldn't be any better for betrayal, but at least he could imagine it really was her. On the same track of mind, he knew there would be no connection or feeling of love between the two. He'd have no idea who the perfect stranger would be. In that way, he wasn't really betraying his Christine. Erik began hating Meg because of how she wormed her way into his thoughts, and couldn't look at her today. It would make him even angrier.

"Thank you," he grumbled. "You may go." But the door stayed wide open. He repeated his command, louder now.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you if you had written any new material for me. I've been preforming 'The Other Side of the Sea' for a while now, and I wanted to see if I could rehearse another song," she said with a brilliant smile that he caught out of the corner of his eye. He frowned deeper.

"No. You are excused, Meg," he growled.

He felt the disappointment in her, but she left with a quieter, "I see. Thank you, anyways." and left. As soon as she was gone, he tried shaking the thought of Meg out of his head, and instead focused on looking the paper for a stand-in Christine.

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><p><em><strong>A quick note:<strong>_

_**This was originally a one-shot, but things got out of control and I realized that publishing a +9,000 word one-shot wouldn't work too well. I'm now publishing it in III separate Acts. If it helps any, I'm using the movie 'Phantom of the Opera' characters for looks and personality, somehow intertwining with the personality of the Love Never Dies versions. I just based them off the movie because I'm familiar with that. Not to say I don't love the musical Phantom, I just prefer to work with familiar material. Also, in case you hadn't noticed, this is set nine years after Phantom, and thus is set one year before Love Never Dies. It's a bit of an alternate reality, so try not to be too confused. :)**_

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	2. Act II: Meg

_**Perfect Strangers**_

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><p><em><strong>Act II: Meg<strong>_

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><p>Meg Giry was taking her tea in the living room, where she had been seated for most of the day, just relaxing and waiting for when she must return to Phantasma to slip into her skimpy costume, too bright make-up, and run through her material one more time. If she was lucky, she wouldn't have to have a 'private show' for anyone tonight, regardless of how much her mother and herself continued making. She was twenty-eight years old, and had nothing much to say for it. Others might be proud of the fact that she was part of the most popular show on Coney Island, or satisfied with the number of people she'd slept with, but to Meg, it was all just a costume.<p>

She hardly could recall the last time she'd actually sat down and read a book, savouring a cup of simple black tea, without thinking of other things. Even now, her mind wandered away from _With Juliet in England,_ and she found herself contemplating her life. Meg was ashamed with herself, that she danced while drunk as well as perfectly sober men ogled over her. Especially that she sold her body for such men a bit richer, but not much different from the show-goers. Meg wondered how it must have been like when she was an innocent virgin, just a child, as she and her mother smuggled Erik away to America.

Meg sunk a little into her seat on the couch, putting her cup of tea on the table, her appetite vanishing. Erik was a whole category of his own. It had taken her years to get used to his face, and somewhere in that span, or soon after her adaptation, she had fallen in love with the fallen angel. Perhaps she was drawn to him because of his new power and riches, or perhaps because she felt she could mend him where Christine had broken him. Whatever it was, she loved him. Why else would she be foolish enough to play a part in Phantasma, especially such a risqué role? Why would she willingly walk into a stranger's home just so she could be played with like a doll, tossed around to do their bidding if not for love? His deformity wasn't even the biggest problem. She agreed that it certainly was awful, but it wasn't the inhuman monster that others has made it out to be. Maybe it was because what she pictured in her mind was even more horrifying than what he actually was. Because of that, Meg had come to accept and was used to him. She supposed hiring herself out as a harlot was almost like betrayal to a man who had no interest in her, but at least she could imagine it really was him. On the same track of mind, she knew there would be no connection or feeling of love between the two, her and her 'customer'. She'd have no idea who the perfect stranger would be. In that way, she wasn't really betraying Erik.

Who was she kidding? Erik's heart was completely for Christine; Meg had no hope of ever winning him over. She was merely a showgirl. A broken shell of a once talented girl, now reduced to this. Erik couldn't care for her so much as to even see her shows, or bother to write a new piece for her. He wouldn't even look at her when she delivered the newspaper into his room. She was only thankful for the fact he had no clue what she was doing with her nights out. She knew her mother covered for her, a mutual agreement between the two. She would keep her secret and be supportive of her so long as Meg made sure to bring money in and help their broken sort of family thrive. Of course, her mother didn't approve one bit of the lifestyle, but couldn't stop Meg. She was older now, and wasn't paid much to help out with Phantasma. Any profits made from the shows were rarely used to help the Girys and Erik thrive. They were mostly put into hiring new, better entertainers, or buying new costumes, putting the money to work to make more. There was no other way to keep the show the most popular and best. Meg would continue with her work, so long as Erik was kept as happy and pleased with his show as he could. That's how far her love went, and she didn't doubt it's authenticity for a moment.

At that moment, a flash of black was caught out of the corner of her eye, and her glance darted up from the meaningless words to Erik. Her heart stopped, or beat quicker. She wasn't fully sure which was which. In any case, she looked up and saw him. She plastered on a bright smile and shut her book, not bothering to mark the page. She'd just search for it later. "Erik! What brings you out of your lair?"

He didn't crack a smile at her half-hearted attempt at a joke. "I've come to ask you to deliver a letter for me. I beg you don't ask who it is for, or why, merely that you deliver it with haste. The sooner you could leave, the better."

In a flash, Meg sprung up from her place on the sofa. "I can leave at once! Give me a moment to prepare myself, and I will be to the post office in a moment's time."

Erik grunted and nodded, looking at the floor rather than her. "Wonderful. I imagine you have another engagement with your friends tonight after the show?"

Meg blushed a little. That she had plans with her friends during the night was her excuse for her 'appointments', and she still felt guilty whenever he asked her. In reality, she didn't have an appointment that she knew of. Yet, that is. At the post office, she had reserved a special box for herself, box 105, for letters from clients. They would write to her requesting her services, and leave their address so she might call upon them on that date. She didn't dare leave her own address for them to contact, one might imagine what could happen if rumour got around about Meg Giry, the Ooo-la-la girl, giving out private shows. She even went under a fake name, just to make sure. In fact, her fake name, Sandra Piper, had been asked about once of twice at Phantasma. They'd asked if Meg had any relation to her, because they could've sworn the woman looked just liked her. Declining their relation had become regular to her by now, and she often even smiled when the curious men asked her. Of course, there were also the men that new perfectly well that it was her, specifically requesting that they wanted Meg Giry. But she made them keep quiet, and indeed they did. Such good business as hers was hard to often come by. In this way did Meg keep her private business thriving.

"I'm not sure. I may or may not get a letter in the mail requesting my presence with one of them. I'm sorry that I can't at present give you an exact answer, but if you wish, I can report back to you when I'm back from the post office," Meg said, pulling her boots on and grabbing a coat from the closet.

"No matter, I don't care what you do, so long as you stay out of my room this evening. I will be very busy, and should not like to be rudely distracted," he said, walking away back to his room without so much as a goodbye. Meg would've liked very much at least a parting smile from him, but knew that since he was at least talking to her, she should be satisfied for the day. With that, she wrote a scribbled note to her mother, placed the barely looked at letter in her coat pocket, and left into the late-autumn chill.

Meg's quick walk from their humble home to the post office was of no exceptional event. She merely hurried out of the dreaded cold into the slight warmer temperature of the post office, where new gas heaters were running. She sighed contentedly at the warmth and wiggled her fingers and toes to get heat back into them. The post office was a cozy place, with a small front and a large back for the employees to fetch mail from. Boxes upon boxes covered the back, each person who hadn't a mailbox near their home fetching their mail from here. Shaking the last of the cold away, she approached the small desk where a blond young man stood, smiling as Meg walked up to the desk.

"Ah, Meg! The mere sight of you just made my day!" he said, and Meg smiled and chuckled.

"Good day, Adam. Would you mind collecting the mail from the Giry's box and 105?" she asked.

"But of course, Miss. Anything for my favourite performer," Adam gave her a wink and a grin, and went back into the stomach of the building to fetch both box's mail. Meg sighed, leaning on the counter, her smile disappearing. Adam was a young man, only twenty-one, but had strong feelings for Meg, who's show he regularly attended. Meg disliked his unwanted attention. He was just like all her viewers or customers, they only cared for what they thought she was, the Ooo-la-la Girl Meg Giry, or the sex goddess, Sandra Piper. No one saw the real Meg Giry that she once used to be and longed to still be. However, Adam was kind and innocent enough, and she knew that in her heart of hearts, she liked him. Not in any sort of romantic way, but she liked his spark and initiative. It was rare Adam ever was angry or had a deep frown, and he was always there to cheer her up if her mood was foul. Lucky for her, he still hadn't figured out about her wild nights. Otherwise, he might've sent a request for one. Meg thought that if she had to spend a night with someone she knew, especially someone she considered to be a friend, she might die of embarrassment.

Adam returned moments later with a few letters, most of which were addressed to her mother or Erik. "None for Miss Piper today, but let her know Adam says hello!"

Meg gave him a sincere smile, partially because of Adam's cheerfulness, and partially because she would get another full night's rest tonight. It was the twelfth day in a row she'd sleep alone. "Thank you, Adam. I'll be sure to give her your best regards." Meg was about to turn and leave when she remembered the letter that had originally brought her down to the post office. Her hand thrust into her pocket and she grabbed Erik's letter.

"Oh! Adam, I nearly forgot. This was given to me by a friend who wished for me to post it." She handed the crisp, white envelope to the young man, and he took it, looking at her closely.

"You know, Miss Giry, you have the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen," he commented flirtatiously.

"Thank you, and good day, Adam," she said in a teasing tone, and headed once more for the door, until a sudden call from Adam stopped her.

"Meg? I believe this letter is for you."

Meg stopped in her tracks and turned around, an eyebrow raised. Adam was standing there without his teasing smile, so she knew it wasn't some practical joke. "Excuse me?"

"The letter from your friend, it's addressed to Miss Sandra Piper. It looks like she had mail today after all."

Meg couldn't seem to make the connection. There must've been some kind of mistake, Adam had read it wrong, or Erik had accidentally wrote the wrong name; It couldn't be. With a quick step, Meg approached the counter. "Let me see that letter, Adam."

He willingly handed over the envelope and Meg scanned it with her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she read in Erik's very handwriting, "Miss Sandra Piper, Box 105". That's when Meg made the stunning connection. Erik was requesting the intimate services of Miss Piper, and it just so happened that Meg was Sandra Piper.

Meg's face erupted into a massive blush as she realized what was happening. Slightly dizzy and half unaware of what was happening, she briefly recalled bidding adieu to Adam and rushing out of the post office. Walking back to her home was a blur, and the next moment, she was aware of sitting on her bed, the rest of the mail left neglected on the floor as she ripped open the letter for Sandra Piper.

It read as such:

_"Dear Miss Piper,_

_I am aware that you hold a special service, and with respect, would like to request it. It may as well be that you do not receive this mail a day after I send this, and hope it at least arives within the week. On the off chance you receive it this day (Friday the 5__th__, in the eleventh month), I shall ask you to come to 13845 Leonardo Ave. at the time of six to seven o'clock in the evening, for I will be alone at that time, and from that time, we shall be undisturbed. No written response is needed, so long as you come at the appropriate times. The same is applied for all days of the week but Sunday._

_I must beg of you to excuse this, but I do have a few rules I wish to be followed. Due to personal reasons, I request that you will pardon me wearing a mask. It will be made of cloth and will not affect you, as long as you will excuse it. I would also like for you to respond as quickly as possible, seeing as I am a very busy man. As to the subject of pay, I am prepared for $100 if it is acceptable. As you may tell, I am new to this sort of business, and only have a vague idea of what is acceptable as payment. We may discuss that later, and I imagine I will see you soon._

_-Erik Y."_

Meg's heart was beating faster than it ever had before. This was no joke, no prank or mistake, this was truly Erik's work. It was written in his handwriting, and held the exact formality of his speech. The mention of the mask, his very name, and the fact that Meg and her mother left for Phantasma all days of the week (excepting Sunday, when they departed at noon for an early start on her five shows a day) at five-thirty. If Sandra Piper had come at six, the two women would be gone, and all suspicions would be non-existent. But this letter meant more than just a request for her services. The fact that Erik unknowingly requested _Meg's _service's wasn't as surprising as the fact that Erik had requested _anyone's _service's.

There was a skip in Meg's heart as she realised that he must finally be over Christine. Why else would he send the letter? He would never in his right mind hire someone if he was still so madly in love with Christine. But her spirits sank as she realised that if he needed to hire someone to have his way, then he must not care much for the real Meg. He hadn't caught her looks or hints, or maybe he did, only didn't return them. She was in a very confused state of mind, and wondered if maybe she should lay down and take a nap when there was a knock at her door. She was startled so bad that she jumped nearly a foot in the air and shuddered. Meg scrambled to hide the note and called feebly, "Come in."

With a bit of relief, it wasn't Erik. It was her mother. She poked her head full of quickly greying hairs into the room, the rest of her body following. "There you are. Be ready to leave at five, today. We must go early. I need to hold an extra rehearsal with the chorus girls, they've been doing poorly over the week. That gives you three hours."

"M-mother?" Meg stumbled. "I don't think I'll be able to do a show today, can you have an understudy step in?"

Her mother was fairly surprised, but frowned. "Are you ill, Meg, my love? You know we can't afford for you to miss a whole day of shows."

"No, it's not that," she said softly, trying to find words to phrase it right. "It's a... client. He wishes me to come at six, and he's paying very well. $100 just for tonight."

Madame Giry kept her mouth in a thin line. "You don't have to accept every man that sends you a letter, Meg. You don't have to do this, I can find another, higher paying job. Or demand Mister Y. begins paying rent."

"No," Meg begged, her eyes widening. "No, if you did that, he'd only move out and right into Phantasma itself. You know he would, and you know that I love him."

Madame Giry sighed and closed her eyes. "I know, _ma__ chère, _I know. If it must be this way tonight, I wish that you only do not regret your decision too terribly. Selena will be overjoyed to play you part tonight."

_"_Thank you, mother," Meg said, unsmiling, as her mother left the room. Meg stood, knowing that she needed to get to Phantasama as quickly as she could. She had decided that she would take the job, for many reasons. One, $100 turned down would've been the worst mistake she'd made in the business. Two, she would finally have the chance to have Erik as if he loved her. He would kiss her tonight like she had dreamed, and go further than she had dared dream. The only problem would be her appearance. He would recognize her almost immediately, and who knew what would happen when that came into play. Meg decided that she was an actress, if nothing else. She would borrow one of Phantasma's many wigs, and pin it up expertly. She knew how to wear it so it would not come off easily, and so that it looked very convincing. After that, she'd cover her face in makeup so she'd be almost unrecognizable. She was excited beyond the imagination that she ever dared dream, and knew that although Erik would never know, it might be the best night of her life.

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><p><strong><em>A quick note:<em>**

_**I suppose for SOME reason, Meg put an ad in the paper. 0_o I don't think you can do that in real life... but you know, anything can happen, I suppose. **__**I'm not a hooker, so I wouldn't know how they got their clients back in the early 1900s. I know in LND Meg's mother seems to get all her clients for her, but I supposed that maybe she checked the mail for their letters. *Shrugs* Why not? Also, I thought that a fake name would do Meg good for her pride.**_

_**Best Wishes,**_

_**Aktress.**_

**_PS, Thanks a whole bunch to everyone who reviewed! Each review boosts my moral and each criticism makes my writing even better! :D_**


	3. Act III: Erik & Meg

_**Perfect Strangers**_

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><p><em><strong>Act III: Erik &amp; Meg<strong>_

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><p>Trembling, Meg knocked on her own door using her knuckles and trying very hard not to shake. Though, she supposed she didn't look much like Meg Giry any more. Her normally blond, long hair was pinned up in a hairnet, with a wig full of dark ginger curls covering them. It wasn't the most alluring, she'd admit, but there weren't many wigs that looked as realistic as this one. Once she had done her makeup, Meg could hardly be recognized. She had slipped into a plain, but slightly more revealing dress than most would wear on the streets. She'd even taken her costume for a test run, walking straight through Phantasma, where most of her fellow performers were practising or chatting. The only thing Meg had gotten from them were stares that said, "Who's the ginger?" She had just smiled and made her way home. She had been so confident, but now, every flaw in her plan had come to mind. <em>What if he sees through the makeup? What would he do? And what if everything goes according to plan? How will I EVER be able to live again? I should die of embarrassment if I ever hear his voice again, and would never be able to have another client. Supposing he buys it for a short time, then something awful happens, like my wigs fall off or he sees through the makeup? How would either of us react?<em>

Meg was terrified, shaking in the boots she had borrowed from costuming as the door opened slowly. She looked up at the figure that had opened the door and looked anywhere but his eyes; Meg couldn't muster up the courage to make contact just yet. However, she saw that his mask was a bit different from the one he always wore. For one, it was black instead of eggshell white, and looked like it was made of a softer material. It covered not only the ruined half of his face, but the other half as well. There were two holes for eyes, and the mask still allowed him to breathe and revealed his mouth. The inside of the house was all too familiar, and she'd have to remember that she was playing the part of a stranger who had no clue as to the layout of the house. It was her most shining role, and yet, no one but her would know.

"Miss Piper, I presume," Erik said, somewhat stiffly. Meg kept her gaze away from his, and instead stared at his lips, which were somewhat interesting. Although they weren't as horrifying as the ruined part of his face, you could tell something wasn't right about them. They weren't a normal pair of human lips, and Meg nearly blushed at the thought that in minutes, they could easily be touching her own.

"Yes," she said, in a voice a bit higher than her own, but not too faked. She hoped it didn't sound too much the same as her normal voice. "Mister Y." She almost sighed with relief when he seemed to buy it, and stepped out of her way and allowed her to walk through the doorway.

Closing the door behind her softly, Meg turned to Erik, smiling out of nervousness and of what was to happen in moment's time. She had finally worked up the courage to look at him and stared into his golden-green eyes.

Erik glanced away from her, and looked towards the living room. It was hard for him to look at this woman, the very thought that he... he would be betraying Christine with her was so difficult for him to grasp. _I'm not betraying her, _he thought. _This has nothing to do with Christine. It's just to satisfy my need and get Meg Giry off my mind. I can't afford to have her come anywhere close to my angel's place. _He didn't know how this worked, it wasn't like he'd hired a harlot before. Erik really hadn't given much thought to how things would happen besides the fact that he would go mad without another person's touch again. He hadn't realized how awkward this confrontation would really be.

"I suppose that-" he began, but was suddenly cut off by Sandra nearly attacking him. She had wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his. In surprise, his brain shut down. How did kissing work? Was there a technique? He wondered if he was doing it right, but remembered that he didn't care for whoever this woman was. Why should she get any pleasure out of this? So he tried pushing any thought of Christine and Meg out of his mind, closed his eyes, and tried to hold up his end of the kiss.

Meg's mind was reeling, and she thought she might be getting dizzy. She was _kissing _him! After all this time, nine years of waiting! Too many 'suitors' had come before this, she realized that she had waited much too long. His mask didn't make much of a difference, only the fact that instead of skin rubbing against hers, it was cloth rubbing against her forehead. Maybe he wasn't the best kisser, and maybe he was a bit more rusty with it than other men she'd been with, but knowing that it was the man she'd fallen in love with made everything so much more surreal and amazing.

Erik broke apart from her, catching his breath. Meg bit her lip, holding back a giggle. "First time, sweetie?" she asked, trying so very hard not to smile. She'd said this to many a man, almost a tease, when they were out of breath.

"Of course not," he growled, and pressed his face back into hers quickly with plenty of force. She couldn't help it any longer and smiled against his lips as she kissed him with all the passion she could offer. It wasn't the time to hold back, if she died tomorrow, she wanted to be satisfied with tonight's work.

Erik tried to remember how it had happened with Christine, nine years before. One thing had led to another, and everything had just happened in a rush. He thought that Sandra was expert enough, and she'd know when to move on from the kissing. Honestly, Erik didn't really know if he wanted to move on at all. Hell, he didn't know if he even liked the kissing! It seemed that this woman was putting forth her best effort, but he didn't know her. It wasn't like the passion he had experienced with Christine. He had known her so well that everything had seemed so perfect. He had assumed it had always been like that with every woman, but it wasn't. The feeling of kissing her was so much less than the thought of kissing Christine.

But... Christine was gone, he thought in a sudden flood of realization. As he stood there, kissing Sandra, he realized that for nine years, he had waited for Christine to come back, living every day only in remembrance of her. He might have died if it weren't for her.

Actually, if it weren't for another, he might have died anyway. If it wasn't for _Meg_, he would've died long ago. The more he thought, the more Christine's faults came to mind. Christine hadn't saved him, Christine had left him, then came back for one glorious night. After that, there was nothing. It wasn't passion that had driven Christine, he thought, it was pity. She gave him her body because she pitied him. Nothing was real any longer, and a dull numbness overcame him as he thought clearly for the first time in nine years.

Christine Daae was a married woman, and who knows where she was now. To Erik, Christine was dead. It was painful, and he felt his heart dying a little, but it sprung back to life with the thought that replaced Christine. All he had seen was Christine for so long that he had been blinded to his surroundings. There were people around him who cared for him, and didn't shy away initially. There was one young woman who was creeping into his thoughts, and this time, he didn't try to stop them from coming.

Meg had been there to save him, along with help from her mother. For years they had helped him, and although they had took his savings (20,000 francs a month for years on end can really add up to a fortune) to help them survive and deal with Phantasma, they had been more kind to them than he deserved. Although Meg wasn't nearly as gorgeous as his angel, Erik had noticed how plainly pretty he was. Granted, he didn't see too much of her, but when he did, she was always smiling, full of happiness without a care. He wasn't quite sure of her talent or ability, and felt just a bit guilty for not taking her offer to see at least one her shows. He knew she wasn't even close in comparison with Christine, but he was curious to see what potential she could have.

What snapped Erik back into reality was a hand unbuttoning his shirt. He felt each slip of buttons, and realized that his shirt was being taken off. His train of thought had been so completely distracted that he had paid nearly no attention to the woman who was desperately clinging on to him, preparing to do the very sinful thing she called her business. He knew that he couldn't do this, not with the epiphany that had just broken through. So he raised his hands up and pushed her away from him. Her own hands retracted, leaving the rest of the buttons done up, and they retreated back to her own body. Sandra breathed hard, and Erik sighed as he wiped his mouth of her saliva. Now that he thought of it, he couldn't understand why on earth he would ever have hired a woman he didn't know to do such an intimate thing. The thought of a stranger's spit mixed with his made him disgusted now.

"Is there something wrong?" Meg asked breathlessly. She was shaking, and hoped it didn't show too much. Every perfect second she had savoured, the feeling of her mouth working against his was more magical than that of any man she'd ever had the pleasure (or displeasure) to kiss. She hadn't wanted to ever stop, and as she'd gotten closer to the main goal, he had suddenly pulled away.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this," Erik mumbled, quickly re-buttoning his shirt up. Meg's heart skipped a few beats and it felt as though it was stabbed through with a stake.

"S-stop?" she asked, still shaking. Stop? How could she ever stop now? She was _so close _to the thing she'd always dreamed of, and he couldn't do it! She knew why, too, and knowing it made her feel all the worse.

"Yes," he sighed. "If this has been any inconvenience to you, please accept my apologies, and know that you'll still be paid for all this trouble. But understand that I'm not nearly as ready for this as I hoped."

"Are you sure?" Meg nearly pleaded. Now that she had broken character, it was impossible to stop. Why bother any longer? "You might as well get your money's worth if you're paying for it."

"I'm quite sure. Allow me to grab your money and you can be on your way home," Erik said, turning to leave. But Meg couldn't stop talking.

"You shouldn't be spending money so freely!" she cried out, forgetting her false voice. "Any hard-working person wouldn't so freely give away $100, not just for a kiss or two! People like me have to make a living off such a sinful business, and here you are! The high and mighty Mister Y, burning his cash like wood!"

Erik was surprised at her words, she could tell. Her face was burning, but with rage or embarrassment she wasn't quite sure. He turned around to look at her, confusion plainly written across his face.

"Excuse me?" Erik asked, a bit flabbergasted. This crazy woman was too worked up to care that he had turned on the electric lights and was now looking deep into her eyes. He thought she had something familiar about her, but what was it? As he looked deeper, he came to the starling realization of how unique the green of this perfect stranger's eye's were. Either the colour was more common than he thought, or...

"God almighty, if I have to deal with another person who _isn't_ like you, who would rather keep the money AND me for their little sex toy, I'll die! What you don't know, _Mister_, is what I go through day in and day out! There's a man that I love, and he won't even notice me! He thinks I'm a complete-"

"Meg?" Erik asked quietly, his own eyes getting wider. Meg stopped mid-sentence, her mouth still wide open. She was frozen with fear. He knew now. It was exactly what she feared, and she thought if only she could vanish, the world would be a much, _much_ better place. Meg tried to make words, but only let out a squeak. Her hands flew to her mouth and her pupils shrunk.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, fleeing for the door.

Her flight was cut short however, by a "Wait!" and a strong hand grasping her shoulder. Meg stopped, and felt tears pricking at her eyes. She didn't try to hold them back, and began to let the tears freely fall. "Wait..." Erik repeated, and turned her around.

Meg's make-up was ruined, and only now could he see how fake the ginger wig really looked. Erik brain was still trying to comprehend the situation, and thought they both needed to sit down and talk as quickly as possible. "Go... go wash yourself up. Get out of those prostitute's clothes, and meet me in the kitchen when you're through."

Feebly, she nodded, and through her sobs, made her way up the staircase. Once in the bathroom, she wept while she carefully peeled the wig back from her head and let her blond hair flow free again in a semi-frizzy mess. She stripped herself of the clothing and pulled on a nightgown that was less revealing and a hundred times more comfortable. Her tears mixed with the water and she washed her face from the make-up and glitter, leaving her to look at a completely different girl in the mirror than the one she'd seen before. It wasn't the grinning ginger prostitute who had so much confidence and a devious scheme. It was little Meg Giry, the one that she hadn't seen in such a long time. No make-up, tangled hair, and an unattractive, rotten-peach coloured nightgown. Her red, tear stained face made her whole being pitiful. She looked just like what she felt.

All the energy and hope she'd had before was drained. She had been so sure that she would wake up in the morning in Erik's bed, that she had forgotten the fact that she might be caught. What would he think of her now? _A pitiful excuse for a human being, _she sourly thought. _How could he even look twice at me ever again without labelling me as a prostitute? _She didn't bother putting on make-up, but did run through her hair once with a brush. With her bare face, barely neat hair, and red cheeks, she slowly made her way down the stairs, dreadfully awaiting whatever Erik was going to say or question her about.

Meg was a bit surprised to see that in the time she'd sobbed and changed, Erik had made two cups of tea, one for himself and she assumed the other was for her. He was sitting at the small table in their kitchen, his face with the expression of concentration on it, his cup left as alone as Meg's. The cups sat there, untouched and still steaming. With a sigh, Meg stepped into the kitchen and took her seat. Erik had turned his attention towards her the moment she stepped into the light, and kept his eyes fixated upon her.

For a moment, the two of them sat there in silence, the only sound being the rain lightly hitting the roof upstairs. Erik was staring at Meg, and Meg was trying to look anywhere but at him, and trying to hold back tears. She dared not cry in front of him again. Luckily, the patterns in the wood of the table were fascinating, and she fixated her gaze upon them. Eventually, Erik spoke.

"I'd like to hear an explanation," he said. Meg looked up from the wood of the table and directly at him.

"An explanation of what?" she asked in all seriousness.

"Everything. To begin with, I'd like to know why you were dressed like... that," he said, searching for the right word. Meg shamefully looked back down at the wood. How could she begin to explain?

"I suppose... I should begin with that. Ever since mother and I brought you here to America, money has been so tight. After the price of the house, it was hard to even pay for food. When you got your idea for Phantasma, we tried so hard to make ends meet, but we realized we were so in debt, that we wouldn't be able to even pay for the house any more. Our landowner was going to make us leave, and we'd be homeless and penniless, so I suppose it all began there. Mother, with her age and inability to work was no use. It was lucky for us that our landowner was so easily convinced to lower the price of our home..." Meg trailed off, then glanced up at Erik. His face was unmoved, but Meg thought maybe he was a bit paler than normal, and continued on.

"From then on, it came to our notice that many a man paid a pretty penny to have one night with the Ooo-La-La Girl, and for nine years now, we've been able to keep up rent, make Phantasma a soaring success, and soon, I'll be able to buy a new set of dresses for the Spring. Of course, it's not what I would've chosen, but it keeps the bills paid," she said, then fell silent. They waited in silence once more, Meg awaiting a comment from him.

Erik was shocked, if anything. For nine years, his large fortune had sat there, barely touched, and here, Meg had sold her body to strangers for scraps of food. His mind tried to deny it, but in his underused conscience, he felt beyond guilty. He internally debated whether he should tell her about it or not. He decided that he would tell her, but he couldn't tell her at that waking moment. He needed to hear more from her. "I see... but I imagine you knew I was to be your next client. You didn't decline it."

Meg cringed a little. He didn't ask it, but said it in an accusing tone. She stared at the table as she thought. Eventually, she found her voice. "Yes... I did know. And I didn't decline for a number of reasons. One hundred dollars is a hell of a lot of money to me, and if I turned it down, I would've been a fool," she smiled a little bit. "And then... I suppose..." she trailed off, blushing bright red. Erik was unhelpfully silent and Meg sighed. "I've done enough damage tonight, so saying this won't make things any worse. I'm in love with you, Erik. It took me a few years to realise it, to get past... anyway, that doesn't matter. I know how much in love with Christine you are, and I saw how this might be my only opportunity to get something I've wanted for a while. There, you have it, are you happy?" A tear fell from Meg's eye as her voice got louder, eventually cracking when she said 'Happy'. Her vision was blurred, and she couldn't bear to look at him.

Erik had always caught her flirtatious smiles and way of speech, but he had never thought she was this deep in. It wasn't a surprise, but was rather an eye-opener to him. He looked silently at Meg as she sat weeping. She sniffed and choked out a small laugh. "I look pitiful, don't I?" He hated to see her like this, but realized something he had never before.

Meg wasn't the woman he thought he'd known. The Meg Giry he knew was full of smiles and compliments, without a care in the world, with minimal knowledge. She was different, so familiar and yet, a perfect stranger. This Meg was much different. Her red, wet face showed her true, hidden emotions, but even then, she was trying to smile through her tears. The warm electric light illuminated her tear-stained face, giving her the appearance of a weeping angel of sorts. She was intelligent, and although she wasn't the most gorgeous of women, he couldn't boast he was by any standard the handsomest man on earth, either. Meg was hard working, and he was lucky that she liked him. Erik didn't know this Meg as well, but he was sure that he loved this Meg even more than the old one. And he was certainly ready to get to know her better.

Carefully choosing his words, Erik began to speak. "Crying doesn't make you pitiful, it only makes you stronger, Meg. I'm sorry that you had to go through all of what you have over the past nine years, and if I could, I would change all of that. But I promise you that you will never have to act as a prostitute again. During my days at the Opera, I made 20,000 francs a month. I still have most of my savings, and I thought you and your mother had made ends meet using that. If I had ever known you were doing such an awful thing, I never would've let it happen."

It was Meg's turn to be in shock. Nine years... all the people she'd been with... it was all for nothing. She hadn't needed any of that. Nine miserable years of her life that had resulted in humiliation and anger. And now, the only man she'd ever cared for, admitted that he had money the whole time. She felt anger boiling up inside her. But instead of yelling, the anger was suddenly converted to sadness. Her tears got stronger and poured more heavily.

Erik had feared her reaction would be something like this, so he bit his lip, knowing what he was about to do was somewhat risky, and rose up from his chair. He walked to the heavily sobbing figure. He grabbed her hands and jerked her up as non-harshly as he could. She looked up at him through her tears, her sobs turning into gentle whimpers.

The world slowed down as Erik reach a hand down, gently raising her chin up towards his face, and after she finally looked at him, he bent down and slowly planted a kiss on her wet lips. She gasped into his mouth, but he just held her closer to him. She eventually realized what was happening and closed her eyes, contributing her part to their first real kiss, as Erik and Meg.

They both softly pulled away after a moment, and through the remnants of her tears, Meg sniffed and looked up at his sparkling golden-green eyes. "Meg, I can't change what's happened. If it was possible, none of us would be in this damned country. But I've come to realize that my obsession has gone on much too long. It's time I moved on. And there is nothing I want to see more than you happy. You'll never have to work like that again."

"D-do you mean it?" she whispered.

"I think I might love you, Meg," Erik said, admitting his thoughts.

Some of the colour in Meg's face returned and a small grin sprung up. "Does that mean that you'll come to one of my shows?" she asked hopefully.

Erik chuckled and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Yes, I'll come see your shows."

It was Meg's turn to reach up and kiss him, and although this time it was quick, Erik felt the happiness that was circulating through her. "You know, all of this, it was only for you."

"Then lets test these waters. Neither of us have been in any sort of relationship in a long time, and we shouldn't rush things too much," Erik said firmly.

"Agreed," Meg said, then chuckled. "Once mother hears of this, she'll be tickled pink. She's been trying to get you to notice me for quite some time, now."

"It seems to have finally worked," Erik said with a small smile. "Now I propose we drink our tea before it freezes over, and then we should be off to our own, separate beds."

Meg nodded, and with that, a new sort of romance blossomed between the two people who weren't quite prefect strangers any longer.

* * *

><p><strong><em>A quick note:<em>**

_**Weeping Angel! XD XD XD LOLOLOLOL If you get the reference, you deserve a bag of jelly babies and a bow tie! I also**__** get that this isn't perfect, but it seldom seems that anything in LND is perfect either. **_**_Also, the number of words in this story is over nine thousaaaaaaand! :D_**

**_Also, thank you SO much to any and everyone who left their reviews! Each and every one is read and replied to, and each one boosts my moral! So thank you thank you THANK YOU! :D_**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


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